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“Incident at San Miguel” – new novel set in the Cuban Revolution in 1958 provides rich insight into Jewish life in Cuba
By BERNIE BELLAN The history of Cuba’s Jewish community is quite an interesting one. According to Wikipedia, “more than 24,000 Jews lived in Cuba in 1924, and still more immigrated to the country in the 1930s. Following the 1959 communist revolution, 94% of the country’s Jews emigrated, most of them to the United States. In 2007 an estimated 1,500 known Jewish Cubans remained in the country, overwhelmingly located in Havana.”
I’ll get into my review of a book set in Cuban in the 1950s later, but first I wanted to provide some background about the very important role that Canada has played in helping the Cuban Jewish community, especially since 1973.
Following are some excerpts from past issues of The Jewish Post that will provide the reader with a basic understanding of how helpful Canada has been to Cuba’s Jewish community:
From the Nov. 24, 1983 issue: “Canadian Jewish Congress (CJC) will send $30,000 worth of religious articles and supplies to the Jewish community of Cuba, the World Jewish Congress has announced here. Ever since the U.S. severed relations with Cuba in 1960, the CJC has looked after the needs of Cuban Jews” (emphasis mine).
From the November 17, 1999 issue, headlined: “Canada played key role, helping Cuban Jews emigrate to Israel”:
I, myself, wrote the following: “On October 11, the Globe & Mail broke a story in this country headlined ‘Canada aids Cuban exodus – Secret transit of Jews has gone on 25 years.’ “
That story went on to detail how Canada had facilitated the emigration of some 400 Cuban Jews to Israel, beginning in 1973. (Cuba broke off diplomatic relations with Israel at the time of the Yom Kippur War.)
Subsequent to that story I was able to interview Lloyd Axworthy, who was Canada’s Foreign Minister at that time. I asked Axworthy about Canada’s role in helping Cuban Jews emigrate to Israel. He explained that, “beginning in the early 70s, we undertook to set up what we call the Israeli interests unit in our embassy (in Havana), staffed by a locally-engaged person, not only to represent Israeli interests, but also to expedite the emigration from Cuba of members of the Jewish community.
“Since it’s been in operation, there have been about 400 visas that have been obtained. What we do is simply work it from Havana to the Israeli embassy in Ottawa.”
That interview went on to explore how Canada had kept its role relatively quiet, although apparently it was very well known within the Jewish community in Cuba that if you wanted to emigrate you should approach the Canadian embassy.
As Axworthy noted during that interview, “We’ve been quite careful to keep it low key. There was no point in broadcasting it, because there are sensitivities in Cuba to such things.”
I came across another interesting aspect to the role Canada has played in helping Cuba’s Jewish community in 2013 when I learned that Canada’s then-ambassador to Cuba was someone by the name of Matthew Levin, who was an old childhood friend. I emailed Matthew in January 2013, asking him whether he would consent to an interview and he responded warmly.
He also happened to mention something else that I found quite interesting. In response to my telling him about my interview with Lloyd Axworthy many years prior, Matthew wrote in an email to me that “the connection with Lloyd Axworthy and Cuban Jews is of great interest. Coincidentally my wife is now coordinating the Aliyah program in Cuba from the Embassy.”
Alas, much as Matthew was willing to be interviewed, an apparatchik from what was then called the Department of International Affairs and Foreign Trade stepped into the mix and informed me that I couldn’t actually speak to Matthew; instead, I was told, I could email whatever questions I wanted to ask in advance.
I explained to the apparatchik that I wanted to do a folksy interview with someone who was an old friend and that emailing questions would deprive what I was wanting to do of any spontaneity. You can guess how far that went.
In any event, all this serves as a prelude to a review of a book that I actually finished reading a couple of months ago – and had wanted to review at that time. The book is called “Incident at San Miguel,” by A. J. Sidransky. Mr. Sidransky (and I did ascertain that he was a man, although it’s always difficult when you only know an author’s initials) had sent me a review copy of the book back in November, but I didn’t get around to beginning reading it until February.
After I did finish the book and emailed Mr. Sidransky to tell him how good I thought the book was – and that I was now ready to publish a review, I was somewhat surprised when he asked me to hold off publishing the review, writing “Could you hold the review for May? The book release is May 19. Right now we only have preorders for kindle to be delivered May 19.”
However, I just took a look and saw that “Incident at San Miguel” is available for pre-ordering, either in paperback on Amazon or in Kobo format.
Review of “Incident at San Miguel”
With that out of the way, let’s talk about the book itself. The foreword to the book is written by someone by the name of Miriam Bradman Abrahams, who explains that she is the Cuban-born daughter of Cuban Jewish refugees. Her family had been separated from the family that remained in Cuba for over 40 years, although some of her Cuban family had been able to visit Ms. Abrahams’ family in New York in 2001. Ms. Abrahams had long wanted to visit Cuba, she explains, but wasn’t able to do so until 2008.
She told the story of her family to A. J. Sidransky, who is a Spanish-speaking writer of fiction. Mr. Sidransky took elements of Ms. Abrahams’ story and mixed in some fictitious parts to produce “Incident at San Miguel.”
Here is a synopsis of the book: “Havana, Cuba. December 1958. Two brothers find themselves on opposite sides of Castro’s revolution. One dark night, after rescuing a leader of the revolt under house arrest, one brother finds himself hunted. The other, an influential attorney, must make a choice. Help his brother, placing the whole family at risk, or let Batista’s forces capture him. His decision will haunt them both for the rest of their lives. How far will we go to protect those we love? Based on a true story, Incident at San Miguel takes us there.”
Although I was somewhat familiar with the Cuban Revolution and Fidel Castro’s ascent to power, I was fascinated to learn that it was quite some time after Castro and his followers had taken over Cuba before he began to introduce communism to that island.
“Incident at San Miguel” begins in 1958, which was shortly before the then-dictator of Cuba, Filgenico Batista, was overthrown by Castro.
Two brothers, Aaron and Moises Cohan, find themselves on opposite sides of what is transpiring at that moment in Cuba, although, as the novel opens, we see that the brothers do get along quite nicely. Aaron is a lawyer, working in the Batista administration, while Moses is an economist who is aligned with the revolutionaries seeking to overthrow the government.
As the story develops we learn quite a bit about the Jewish community in Cuba at that time. Although most Jews would have been considered middle class, a number of them had become very wealthy businesspeople. The majority of Cubans, however, were quite poor.
In his own introduction, Mr. Sidransky provides an analysis why Jews were continually subjected to persecution by totalitarian regimes in the 20th century, writing that “As in all totalitarian regimes, there is always a boogeyman. In the case of the Nazis and the Hungarian Fascists in the 1930s and 40s that boogeyman was the Jews. In the case of communist systems, including Hungary under Soviet communism, and Castro’s Cuba, the boogeyman is the entrepreneurial or capitalist class. In the absence of a religious, ethnic, or racial minority to blame for the nations’ problems, Communism points its finger at an economic class to which it ascribes the suffering of its people and the nation.”
And, as successful members of that economic class – at least to some extent, it was hardly a surprise that Jews suffered under the Castro regime once communism became solidly entrenched as the economic model for Cuba.
But, as “Incident at San Miguel” relates, it was not at all clear what was in store for Cuba in the late 1950s. Batista’s secret police were everywhere, revolutionaries who were found out were either imprisoned or worse, executed, and despite the continued inroads that Castro’s and other revolutionaries seemed to be making, life in Havana, at least, continued in what seemed to be a normal fashion.
Moises Cohan, though, finds himself caught up in a daring plot to free a former professor of his, who is a hero to revolutionaries, and who has been held under house arrest by the Batista regime. Hence the name “Incident at San Miguel” because the particular incident in question, in which an attempt to free the professor, leads to a whole mess of intrigue as a result.
Moises finds himself on the run and seeks Aaron’s help in being able to escape. Aaron is torn between two worlds. He has been promoted to a senior position within the regime and, helping his brother would not only be a betrayal of that regime, it would be exceedingly dangerous.
Time moves on and on New Year’s Eve, January 1, 1959, the Batista regime folds and Castro’s revolutionaries march into Havana.
Mixed in with the political intrigue are the relationships the two brothers have developed with two vastly different women. Aaron’s fiancée, Beatriz, herself comes from a prosperous Jewish family, and she is perfectly at home with Aaron’s parents, Esther and Rafael.
Moises’ lover, Ana Teresa, in contrast, is a dedicated revolutionary whose first order of business is not romance, but fighting. Moises keeps his relationship with Ana Teresa a secret from his parents, knowing that they would be devastated to learn that he has taken up with a non-Jewish woman.
In time, both Moises and Ana Teresa rise to senior levels within the new Castro regime, yet their romance begins to flounder. Moises is an idealist who believes strongly in the ostensible goal of the revolution to bring about greater equality among the classes. Ana Teresa, it turns out, is a ruthless – and cynical, revolutionary, who is quite prepared to compromise her ideals if it means entrenching the new regime. When it becomes clearer, however, that the new regime wants to bring about equality by leveling the upper and middle classes, Moises begins to become increasingly disillusioned with what is happening – and with his lover.
A fascinating subplot develops when Moises happens to stumble upon a scheme whereby someone in the regime is reaping huge financial rewards through extorting Cuban businessmen, many of whom happen to be Jewish. Reading how Moises undertakes to get at the heart of this corruption introduces an exciting element of suspense into the novel.
We also learn how difficult it quickly became once the new regime was in place for Cubans to obtain exit visas. By this time Aaron and Beatriz have a young baby. The horrible dilemma with which Aaron has to deal is that bureaucrats are willing to let Aaron and Beatriz leave, but their child is denied permission.
That sets in motion a whole new set of challenges for Aaron – who would also love to be able to get both his and Beatriz’s parents out of the country. The parents, however, have a strong attachment to Cuba and are not interested in leaving the country.
I was somewhat surprised to learn that 94% of Cuba’s Jewish population did leave Cuba following the revolution – given how difficult obtaining exit visas was, but when I tried to deduce just how many individuals that figure of 94% represented, I wasn’t able to figure that out. If Cuba’s Jewish population was 24,000 in 1924, as Wikipedia says, and there was an influx of Jews from Europe in the 1930s, then the number of Jews who left Cuba following the revolution had to have been well over 23,000. How did they all get out, I wonder – especially after reading this book and learning how difficult it was for anyone to leave the country after a certain point? I’d certainly like to learn more about when and how so many Jewish Cubans were able to leave following the revolution.
Yet, in reading about the wonderful texture of life in Cuba prior to 1959 – at least for those who were able to enjoy a reasonably prosperous standard of living, such as the Cohan family did, life certainly seemed idyllic in many respects. The descriptions of the kinds of foods that are native to Cuba that the Cohan family was able to incorporate into their daily fare are quite tantalizing, as are the descriptions of the wonderful climate and the beautiful countryside.
“Incident at San Miguel” also provides many insights into the dynamics that underlay the Cuban revolution, including how much democratic ideals inspired so many of the young revolutionaries. While Fidel Castro himself only makes a cameo appearance in the book, Che Guevara plays a prominent – and altogether despicable role. While the book is a work of fiction, with many elements based on the true story of Miriam Bradham Abrahams’ family, the author has certainly done extensive research into life in Cuba in the 1950s. There are some vivid descriptions of how business was conducted – and how much corruption played a part in both the old and new regimes.
A political thriller with many romantic aspects and a vivid portrayal of a country that had so much promise had it not been exploited by one dictatorial regime after another, “Incident at San Miguel” is a riveting read.
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EINSTEIN, RITA AND ME
By DAVID R. TOPPER In the early 1960s, when I was an undergraduate student majoring in Physics at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh – there was only one girl in my advanced physics classes. As I learned later, nothing much had changed since the days of Einstein. When he was studying Physics at the Polytechnic in Zurich, the physics classes were all male – except for Mileva Marić, a Serbian who was the first girl in high school ever to take a physics course in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because Switzerland was the only place where women were admitted to university classes, she was there with Albert in Zurich.
She was very smart, especially in math, and also proficient at the piano. Born with a dislocated hip, Mileva had a slight limp, and the men in the class ignored her – except for one, Albert. They became a couple and eventually married.
Back to me in my university physics classes – where it seems that little had changed for over sixty years. In my advanced classes there was only one girl. Her name was Rita. She mainly stayed to herself. Majoring in Mathematics, she took all the advanced physics courses available, right through the fourth year. In short, in those predominantly male classes, she was an anomaly – alone and ignored by her classmates.
Except me. No, I didn’t date her, yet I didn’t ignore her. During those undergraduate years, I lived at home and took a bus or a trolley to school five days a week, leaving early in the morning. The university is in downtown Pittsburgh. Walking to the campus, I first went to the Physics Department, using it as my base. From there I went to my other classes during the day. There was a small classroom in the Department that was almost always empty, especially in the morning. It could be used for individual studying or small group discussions and such. In the early morning, I was usually the only one there – except for Rita, who used it for studying, too. She often was there, even before me. Usually the conversation started by me saying something like: “Hi Rita, did you get the last problem in mechanics class homework?” Her response was invariably, “Yes.” We would go over it, with her finding my mistakes. We had an amiable relationship that never went beyond our interactions about physics – right up to the end of our university years. As far as I can remember, I don’t think I knew much about her beyond the classroom.
But one event, which I’ll never forget, stands out. It was during our last year of classes in a course on the theory of relativity. For the textbook the prof used a paperback edition of the original papers on the theory. Early in the course, we went through Einstein’s first paper of 1905 – step by step. On this particular day, the prof came in and said he had a problem with the next step in the paper. As we all sat with our books in front of us, he pointed to a certain equation where we ended in the previous class. In the next sentence, Einstein says that such and such follows. The problem for the prof was that he didn’t know how Einstein got that deduction. I looked at it, and didn’t have a clue either.
Just then, Rita’s hand went up. She said she thinks she knows how Einstein got it. The prof asked her to come up to the blackboard and show him. Rita did, and the prof said that she was right. I’m quite sure that – then and there – Rita got an A in that course, if not an A+.
That gives you some idea about Rita and my relationship with her at the time. Not a very significant part of my 4-year undergraduate years – except for this one event in a physics course.
Why then am I bringing this up now, so many years later? Here’s why.
I graduated with my BS degree in the fall of 1964. I then went to graduate school at Case Institute of Technology in Cleveland, majoring in Physics. (It’s now Case-Western Reserve University.)
When I moved there, I lived in a formerly swanky hotel on the edge of the campus, which was purchased by the university as a residence solely for graduate students. They called it The Graduate House. Eleven floors, the top 8 with suites for students, with one floor solely for female students. It was a radical experiment in co-ed living for the time.
My first day there, after getting my room and putting my things in drawers and so forth, it was late in the afternoon – and I was hungry. I had been told when I registered that the dining hall would open the following morning, but for now there was no food. However, on the third floor there were vending machines with sandwiches and such, so I went to find them.
Going down the elevator, exiting at the third floor, and walking down a hall – suddenly I heard my name called. “David, what are you doing here?” Turning around – there was Rita! It was quite a surprise for both of us. This tells you how minimally we interacted before; not even knowing that we both were going to the same graduate school.
I told her that I was majoring in Physics at Case. She, of course, was majoring in Math. After a chat about all this, I said that I was looking for the sandwich machines. She said that there was a diner nearby, and she was going there for dinner with someone else she had just met so I went, too. Thus, Rita and I reunited in Cleveland, now living in the same building.
In a short while, I made friends with a group of people in the Graduate House with diverse majors. Some were in various sciences, others in humanities. It was a lively group, with animated discussions on a range of academic topics, including politics, especially as the Vietnam War became the center of the news in the USA.
Rita was not a part of that group, but I did often see her. Being the eager student that I was, I was up early, getting to the university to study in the library before classes started. Coming to the dining room for breakfast, not long after it opened, I often saw Rita, too – all alone in a far corner. I took my tray and we had breakfast together. Except for that morning ritual, I seldom had any interactions with her.
Thinking about this now, I find the parallel morning rituals (first in Pittsburgh and then in Cleveland) a fascinating serendipitous episode in my life. The difference was that in Cleveland, we were not taking the same courses so we didn’t have to compare solutions to homework. We did talk about our respective courses, and interestingly a parallel appeared. By around mid-term of that first year in graduate school, we both were less than enthusiastic about what we were learning and, accordingly, were both thinking of not carrying on in our respective subjects.
For me it was Quantum Mechanics and the impossibility for us to know reality in itself. Everything was statistical, uncertain and almost esoteric. I found the uncritical attitude toward this world-view to be almost religious in nature. (I only learned later that Einstein felt the same way!)
For Rita, it was the same, despite the different fields. The math now was far beyond basic geometry, algebra and calculus. Topology, Group Theory, Galois’ Theory, and more – all culminating in Gödel’s Theorem, which asserts that all mathematical knowledge is inherently incomplete. It all was too esoteric for her. She knew that she was not going to get a PhD in mathematics.
We commiserated together, with another parallel in our unusual relationship, but with a difference. I still wanted to get my Master’s Degree and somehow still go on to get a job as a professor – that had been my goal in life ever since my first semester at Duquesne. Rita, however, was thinking of dropping out immediately and leaving university life altogether.
For me, this problem was resolved in my second year of Physics at Case, when I took a course taught by Martin Klein. Although he was a physicist in the Department, for many years he no longer was doing research in it. Instead, he was writing papers on the history of the subject – mainly involving Einstein, Boltzmann, Gibbs, Ehrenfest and others. Today those papers are paragons in the field. It was my extremely good luck that the department permitted him to teach such material for the first time.
I loved the course. I was enthralled by the topics – this was the way I wanted to learn physics, through its history. After getting my Master’s in Physics at the end of that year, I moved across campus to the History of Science Department. In another four years I had a PhD in the subject.
Back to early 1965: I tried to talk Rita out of dropping out, but she was adamant. The kicker was this: she really preferred numbers with $$$$ in front of them. Yes, she wanted to be an accountant. She didn’t want to waste any more time here, when she could be home getting her accounting credentials. As I recall, sometime before the spring of that year she went back to Pittsburgh. I’m sure she had an easy time getting her accounting licence and all that went with it. As she was very smart. My guess is that she was an excellent accountant and was very successful in that career.
I have no way of knowing. We didn’t keep in touch (honestly, I don’t know why not) and I can’t even remember her last name. All that I can recall is what I’ve written here. Nonetheless, I find these two interactions between Rita and me an interesting and pleasing tidbit about life and relationships – so much so that I deem it worthy of repeating here.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific, Academy of the Heart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
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How to read fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot labels at Betscore Casino
Modern casino lobbies feature distinctive jackpot tags designed for easy recognition across various game tiles. Browsing through Bet Score, you will see that the platform uses a consistent system to present fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot displays. This brief guide explains how these labels are typically formatted, offering visual cues so you can confidently interpret each jackpot category. Betscore Casino presents these markers in a clear and recognizable way.
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Decoding fixed and daily jackpot displays in casino lobbies
When you spot a “Fixed” jackpot label in the lobby, it indicates a set prize amount displayed the same way every time you encounter it. This number stays constant, appearing directly on the game’s tile or badge and often repeating on the game’s detail page, to minimize ambiguity. The layout generally favors a clean, uncluttered presentation, with the static number supported by an icon or highlighted term that reinforces its status as unchanging. In Betscore Casino, these design choices create a straightforward reading experience where the fixed amount sits front-and-center beside the badge, making it easy to identify among multiple game tiles.
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How progressive jackpot meters stand apart and quick display checks
Within the lobby, “Progressive” jackpot labels are closely linked with animated or meter-style visual treatments. The jackpot amount is shown as an ever-increasing figure, typically larger or highlighted in a contrasting color, to draw attention to its dynamic nature. Often, the progressive badge sits beside or above this meter, so the relationship between label and rolling number is obvious and direct. In Betscore Casino, this design philosophy visually distinguishes progressive jackpots from fixed or daily options at a glance, creating an immediate sense of anticipation around the changing prize amount each time you browse the lobby.
When identifying jackpot types quickly, three main cues make reading the tags straightforward. Fixed jackpots always feature a stable, non-animated number next to their badge, keeping things simple and clear. Daily jackpots consistently add a day-based timeframe indicator, which could be text or a countdown, usually positioned close to the label for easy association. Progressive jackpots, by contrast, are marked by a running total or animated meter, making them stand out as prize amounts increase. Paying attention to these conventions, you’ll find it much easier to compare options and navigate the jackpot categories provided with confidence and efficiency.
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Some random thoughts on the AMIA bombing, Operation Solomon, Arab migration to Palestine, and Jeffrey Epstein
By BERNIE BELLAN When I received an email from an Ethiopian Jew who is now living in Winnipeg who reminded me of the incredible efforts made by so many different people to help rescue Ethiopia’s Jewish population and bring them to Israel during Operation Solomon in 1991 (Operation Solomon) I began to ask myself why that particular event doesn’t get paid more attention within our own Jewish community here?
Recently our community held another commemoration of the AMIA bombing in 1994 in Buenos Aires, which claimed the lives of 85 people (not all Jewish) and injured over 300. Each year B’nai Brith holds a solemn ceremony during which 85 candles are lit and the names of the deceased are read out.
Yes, that was a horrific tragedy, but I wonder how much it still resonates with people. There have been so many other horrible events since that AMIA bombing, including of course the massacre of October 7, but more recently there was also the Bondi Beach attack in Australia last December, during which 15 people were killed and 40 injured. Are we also going to have commemorative events held here in Winnipeg going forward to mark that particular event?
Compare the solemnity with which tragic events such as the AMIA bombing and the October 7 massacre are remembered with the total lack of celebration of something that should be as uplifting as was Operation Solomon. Could it be because Operation Solomon happened in far away Africa and the people who were rescued were black – and seemed so foreign to those of us who can even remember what happened in 1991? I don’t know whether there’s an element of racism involved in the lack of recognition anywhere of Operation Solomon, but I thought it most interesting when I was rereading articles in The Jewish Post & News written by the one individual in our Jewish community who did more to help in the rescue of Ethiopian Jews than anyone else – the late Elliot Levine, and Levine noted the total lack of support from the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council for what was known as “The Committee for Ethiopian Jews,” I couldn’t help but wonder how much race has played a part in sidelining Operation Solomon as a momentous event in the recent history of the Jewish people.
When one considers how much attention is paid to the AMIA bombing, which affected people who, simply put, look more like us, to the lack of attention paid to Operation Solomon – well, I think you get my point.
The Ethiopian Jewish community now living in Israel has had a difficult time being accepted by mainstream Israelis, but over the years many members of that community have made significant contributions to Israeli society and the more recent descendants of the original Jews who were brought to Israel are now proud Israelis. It would be nice for our own community to hold some sort of event to mark Operation Solomon, since it is now the 35th year since that momentous achievement occurred.
Speaking of past achievements, the furor over the Nakba exhibit at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights has continued to spark heated discussion. I’ve received a number of emails from various members of our community responding to articles I’ve written about the Nakba exhibit (and in some cases articles written by others that have appeared in the Jewish Post). I don’t mind admitting that I’m not at all sure where I stand on the whole issue of the Nakba exhibit. I can see the merits of arguments that have been made on both sides of the issue and I try to keep an open mind as I hear different perspectives. But, no matter what argument is being made, I encourage everyone to listen to what people have to say and think carefully about the pros and cons of the particular points being made.
As I noted in an earlier column, rather than descending into an argument over which group has a more valid reason to feel aggrieved – Palestinians who were forced to leave their homes in Palestine (and I’m not going to debate whether the majority left willingly or not; that’s an issue that will never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction) or Jews who were forced to leave their homes in Arab lands, I’d rather concentrate on thinking about where can we go from here?
Unfortunately, the clear consensus in Israel now seems to be that there can never be a Palestinian state and even those politicians who might have been willing to enter into at least some sort of discussion about the possible creation of a Palestinian state have moved so far to the right – in response to the clear shift in public opinion in Israel that sees no room for even contemplating a Palestinian state, that the issue of a future Palestinian state has been completely taken off the table.
At the same time though, as much as I’m generally sympathetic to the Palestinian aspiration to have a state of their own, just as I prefer to refer to historical evidence when it comes to debating what actually happened during the “Nakba,” I also like to look at the evidence surrounding just how many true Palestinians there are.
By that, I mean how many people who call themselves Palestinians can trace their roots back to the actual land which can be referred to as “Palestine.” Remember that there was no such thing as “Palestine” per se until the British Mandate over Palestine began officially in 1923. Prior to that what we now regard as “Palestine” was simply part of the Ottoman Empire.
According to figures compiled by one of the pre-eminent experts on demographic in the Ottoman Empire, Professor Justin McCarthy, there were approximately 500,000 Arabs in what is referred to as Palestine at the turn of the 20th Century, while there were approximately 23,000 Jews.
By 1945 the Arab population of Palestine had grown by over 600,000 to approximately 1,100,000 while the Jewish population had grown to over 550,000. There is much debate over whether a good part of the increase in the Arab population was due to the surge in economic activity brought on by the influx of Jews, but let’s leave that argument aside for the moment. A point that I made in another column about the Arab population of Palestine at the time when Israel was declared a state is that approximately 750,000 Arabs left what had been Palestine – but whether they left voluntarily or not was irrelevant to me. What was relevant to me, I emphasized, was that there could not have been a “Jewish” state with a majority Arab population.
I have heard nothing from those who would criticize the Nakba exhibit at the CMHR about that point.
Again – as I noted previously, I’m not arguing the morality of what happened to the Palestinians; I’m simply making the observation that Israel could not have come about had those 750,000 Arabs who did leave had chosen to stay. I don’t suppose my making that point makes one whit of difference to anyone who is criticizing the CMHR exhibit. I just wanted to reiterate my support for looking at what happened in 1948 objectively. And I’m well aware that even suggesting that one can be “objective” about such a contentious issue is up for debate – but can’t we even try for a little objectivity?
Finally, what about Jeffrey Epstein – and what’s he got to do with everything I’ve just written?
Well, it was the persistently nagging questions surrounding Epstein’s relationship with Trump that led directly to Trump deciding to join in with Netanyahu and attack Iran. Trump was desperate to “change the channel,” especially when so many of his diehard MAGA supporters kept asking questions about why Trump was so keen to put the Epstein issue aside. So now Trump is caught up in a war that he thought would divert attention from Epstein, but the most likely scenario is that he’ll end up trying to bring the war to a conclusion by ceding control over the Hormuz Strait to Iran and abandoning the notion of forcing Iran to give up its quest for a nuclear weapon. And if the only way to reduce Trump’s march toward total authoritarianism is to elect enough Democrats to at least take over the House of Representatives then what we’re going to see is a bunch of “woke” Democrats in Congress who will be wanting to end American support for Israel – and, they’ll be pushing for a Palestinian state.
Thank you, Jeffrey Epstein, for being the cause of this whole mess.
